Family: Rebirth
by Yami Dragoness of Dark
Summary: He swore to destory the Vongola and rebuild it back to what it was meant to be. Now Tsuna must live up to that promise with the help of his Family, but raising children in an ever changing world is hard. 10th-11th gen fic. Sequel to Family. Rewritten
1. Chapter 1

Greetings from the UK/Ireland! Actually I'm in Norther Ireland so I could just say greetings from the British Isles and be done with that but why be simple haha!

I know, I know, "Sweet fuck, she's updated! SHE'S ALIVE! SHE...wait...WHERE ARE THE OTHER CHAPTERS! WHAT IS THIS!"

This, my darlings who actually remain, is the sequel to Family. But I rewrote it. Originally, Family started out as a story that was to explore how the Varia (mostly Squalo and Xanxus) adjusted to having children. It was an introduction of the 11th generation. The focus was supposed to remain on the main characters, the 10th generation, but somehow it snowballed out of control and what remained after the chaos was Family. This story just got to the point where I was embarrassed to even think about it. The writing was off, the characterization was fucked over and worse, I had made my babies into Mary Sues, which I swore never to do. But it happens. The only answer is to go back and fix it. So I fixed it.

This is still Xiana's story. But it is her story with everyone else's. She is not the main focus. She shares the spot light with everyone because I'm bringing the story back to what I originally wanted it to be: a story of the 10th generation dealing with the 11th generation and growing as they did so and vise versa.

So here we are, starting over again. Just like Tsuna is doing with the Vongola Family, which is a big part of the story.

So, for those of you still here, enjoy.

(And a certain thief better give me back my fucking thin mints now!)

Family: Rebirth

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, gore, language, sexual situations and references, violence, misuse of household objects, spouse abuse and any other manner of horrible things I can think up.

Beta-ed by: The Great Question

Disclaimer: While the Reborn characters do not belong to me, we all know which characters in this story are my children. Ask before using, do not steal. Stealing is bad. Xiana will kill you and you'll make Xixi cry.

Yami: Now, you've all waited patiently for this, so I shall not keep you any longer.

* * *

Chapter 1

Who Is At Fault?

"I believe humanity was born from conflict. Maybe that's why in all of us lives a dark side. Some of us choose to embrace it. Some have no choice. The rest of us fight it. But in the end, it's as natural as the air we breathe. At some point, all of us are forced to face the truth. Ourselves. For me, that day has come."  
-Penelope Garcia, _Criminal Minds_

Sawada Tsunayoshi stared out at the expansive green lawn through the tall bulletproof glass windows of his office. The glass had been replaced many times over the successive ten generations that occupied the office he now stood in, but the frame and style remained the same. Built at the very end of the Late Renaissance period with the architecture from the time; examples of the Baroque period had been scattered throughout the manor as a testament to the changing times and hidden within the very walls were proof of a much darker side to the otherwise bright and lively house. Secret passage ways and rooms hid generations' worth of lies, horror, and a bloody history that told the story of the Family that resided within the ancient dwelling. After all, no mafia Family could be without the violent past locked securely away behind closed doors.

The lies, the pain, the blood, the tears, the power; all of it was Tsuna's inheritance upon the retirement of the Ninth Don of the Vongola Family. As he looked through the windows that many others had looked through, he felt his heart clench in fear for the children he watched so attentively. In the arms of a beautiful brown haired woman was his son, Tsumitsu, and future eleventh Don of one of the most powerful mafia family in the world.

There were other children gathered around the woman holding Tsuna's heir. Another grown woman, taller, with wavy black hair, chatted and laughed with her best friend, cradling a tiny newborn girl. A set of triplets, a young boy, and an older girl chased each other around. Though he could not hear them from so far away, Tsuna knew they must be laughing if their happy faces were any indication.

"Brat," a deep voice growled from the office doorway. Tsuna turned and was greeted with the sight of the Varia leader. In traditional black leather and combat boots, Xanxus looked every bit the top rate assassin that he was supposed to be. "We need to talk."

A sigh greeted those words but the Don nodded. Yes, they did need to talk; about many things, none of which were very pleasant. Happy topics were few and far in-between in this office. It was a place for serious business, all of which seemed to be unhappy in some way or another. Sitting down behind his desk, Tsuna motioned for Xanxus to sit. He didn't, as usual. "Any news from Squalo?"

"Trash is in South America," Xanxus snapped, "Mission is going as good as can be fucking expected from a shithead like him. And that's not what I was fucking talking about you fucking piece of trash."

The crude remark was overlooked. Xanxus had a dirty mouth and was one of the resident swearologists and after years of dealing with the man, Tsuna was used to being insulted.

Leaning back in his chair, the young Don watched Xanxus, his expression carefully neutral. "Is there anything you wish to talk about?" Stupid question since the man had specifically said they needed to talk, but if there was one thing Tsuna loved about being behind the desk it was that he could get away with teasing his Family.

As expected, red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Who the fuck are you? My therapist?"

"Nope, I don't get paid well enough to be one."

Xanxus snorted.

"Seriously though, what is it you need to talk about?"

"I said 'we' fucktard," Xanxus corrected, "We need to talk about the fact that you have intel about an enemy Family, that has attacked us directly in the past, and you haven't given me any fucking assassination missions yet."

For a long moment, both men were silent, the older of the pair glaring down at the younger. From all over the house, grandfather clocks began to chime, signaling the passing of the hour. Once the tones of the clocks faded away, Tsuna answered, "They know we have the information. However mercy bears richer fruit than strict justice."

Fire blazed in Xanxus's eyes and around his clenched fists. "Those trash attacked us," he snarled, voice low and dangerous. "Attacked the Vongola Family! And you want to let them live? The Ninth wouldn't have…"

"I'm not the Ninth!" Tsuna yelled, standing up. "I'm not the Ninth, or the Eighth, or any of them! I'm running this Family now Xanxus and we'll do things my way!"

"Your way will get us all killed!" roared Xanuxs, slamming a fist against the desk. "This isn't like your fucking training, where if you make a mistake, that trash tutor of yours kicks you. People will die! Your wife, your child, your friends, they will all _die_!"

Clenching his fists tightly, Tsuna hissed, "I will not be made a murderer. I will not ruin lives and leave orphans and widows. I will not punish an entire Family because of the actions of a few."

"_A few!_" Xanxus demanded, incredulous. "It wasn't "a few" it was most of the fucking Family and-"

"And the ones who were responsible were dealt with," Tsuna interrupted. "But each person not directly involved that is killed breeds more hate. And that hate will be turned towards us in time. What will you do then? You can protect the Family from assassination attempts but the hate and unrest? Can you protest your family from that?"

With an enraged roar that sounded more animalistic than human, Xanxus kicked a chair into the wall. It shattered upon impact. A lone crack now stood out against the lightly colored wall. Storming to the door, the Varia leader stopped just long enough to tell Tsuna, "Stop dreaming about keeping the fucking blood from your pathetic hands. They've been stained since your goddamn birth; it's time you saw that." With those parting words, he slammed the door.

It was long after Xanxus's footsteps had faded away that Tsuna finally sat back down, face in his hands.

Xanxus was right. It was a dream and one that looked as though it could never be reached. Giotto, the Vongola Primo, had ruled the Vongola wisely and not unkindly. His reign had been the cleanest, and while not the most profitable one, it was because of him that the Vongola Family had risen to the top so fast. Mercy over strict justice. Charities instead of cruelties. He and his guardians had been nothing but a ragtag team of vigilantes that rose from the ground up and grew famous protecting those that could not protect themselves. Why had it gone wrong? _How_? Tsuna, the Vongola Primo's direct descendant, had made a vow that day, when he had been judged by the previous bosses, that he would destroy the current Vongola and return it to what it once was. Not a clan of blood thirsty murderers, not a Family of cutthroats, but a group of people bound together by a common goal to help others.

His goal had proven much harder to accomplish than he originally thought. Certainly not for a lack of trying.

Was this why Giotto had waited until he retired to have kids? It was certainly possible. Having a family, a wife and children to worry about, meant having to deal with threats to them a lot harsher than threats to friends who could protect themselves. The second Vongola Don had lost his first son to the heir of the Tomaso Family. After losing one son, he would most likely protect the second fiercely and deal with any threats with extreme prejudice.

Would he have to do that if someone hurt or killed Tsumitsu? No, the question was would he have the strength to stop at just the person who committed the crime. That answer was just one of many Tsuna lacked.

.

.

.

His office was a disaster zone. Papers strewn all over the floor, some still drifting slowly down; a glass paperweight lay scattered in a thousand pieces; pictures sat in dented metal frames, their occupants smiling through cracked glass; pens and pencils rolled about like so many discarded sticks. Xanxus sat hunched over his desk, head in his hands as liquid fire danced within his skull, turning the room into a blurred mess and sending his memories spiraling into a black hole that was trying to consume his entire being.

The headaches, pounding, physically disabling migraines, came without warning, stayed for no certain amount of time and left without a trace. They left Xanxus exhausted and confused time and again as they had since the accident. A year ago a mission gone awry had left him with no memories of his life. Most had returned upon the birth of his third child, Xima, but some memories still remained hazy to him. He had trouble recognizing people he did not interact with often, names and events slipped his mind easily and often.

He had told no one of his plight. It was only sensible. He was Xanxus, the leader of the fucking Varia. One did not admit to being weak or to a weakness when one was Varia. Weak was not Varia quality and as leader he exemplified Varia quality.

But god in heaven, he wished the headaches would stop.

The door opened suddenly and without the person bothering to knock.

Xanxus looked up, glaring.

Standing in the doorway was a girl, unnaturally tall for eight, with black hair tied up in a ponytail, tanned olive skin with scars stretching around her bare neck and arms. Silver eyes swept the room and all its chaos before settling on the room's only occupant. The babe in a sling on her back slept on, blissfully unaware. A young Newfoundlander peeked around the doorframe, sniffing warily.

For a long moment, there was silence.

"Vaaaaaaaai! What the fuck is this? I just helped you organize this fucking room last fucking week and you go and fuck it up you fucking old man!"

"Watch your fucking language!"

"You watch yours! It's probably you Xixi's got her bad mouth from!"

"You watch her!"

"And Xiale but you don't see him swearing a blue streak!"

"Fuck you, brat!"

"Fuck you, old man!"

The two glared at each other. In her sling, Xixi yawned and continued to sleep, deaf to the world and the loud voices of her family.

Xanxus snorted. His headache was finally easing. "What do you want, brat?"

"Nothing," Xiana replied, going about picking up the papers as if this was a regular occurrence, "just wanted to bother you."

"I feel so honored."

"You should. I have a very busy schedule."

"Yes, childhood must be such a tough time, working, taking care of the family, and being the breadwinner and all."

"…you're an ass, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Your mother on more than one occasion."

This time Xiana snorted, placing a neat stack of papers onto the otherwise empty desk. "I can't image why." She began picking up the pens and pencils. "Has mamma called?" Her voice was calm but Xanxus heard the hopeful note and saw the slight tremble in her hands as she asked.

"The mission is going well."

"Did he say when he'll be back?" Again, that little bit of hope and miniscule tremor.

"No."

"Oh." She stood up straight, pens and pencils clutched in her hands. Looking at her, Xanxus wondered how she stood so straight. Despite years of perfect posture literally being beaten into her, she was eight, with the expectations of the mafia world as the next Varia boss on her shoulders as well as the weight of her baby sister, who was deaf and required special attention, and her younger brother Xiale, who was a mamma's boy and was not taking the separation well. Not only that, but as the oldest, she had the other Vongola children, from the Yamamoto triplets to little Himeko, looking up to her even if most would not admit it.

She's too young for this, Xanxus thought though he would never say it aloud.

Xiana was Varia quality, she had proven that already. Those of Varia quality did not get special treatment; even if they should.

"What do you really need, brat?"

Xiana didn't reply as she finished putting things on the desk and sweeping up the worst of the glass. Only once these things were done did she pull out a slip of paper from her pocket and hand it to him. "Parent teacher conference is on Monday," she informed him, shifting nervously.

"Did you do anything worth my attention?" he asked, exasperated. No amount of memory loss or alcohol could make him forget all the times someone had to go get Xiana from school because of a fight.

"No!" she snapped then hesitated. "Well, I may have hit Douchio, but he was being a –"

"I don't care what he was being, if you keep fighting with the kids then we'll switch you to a public school." Xiana blanched.

It was a new threat Xanxus had come up with when nothing else seemed to deter her from fighting. Her current primary school was a private one where half the students were from mafia Families or those who had affiliations with the mafia. Not because the school taught anything mafia related but because it was an honest to god good school and anyone who could afford to send their kids to it did. Ariel and Isabella, Xiana's only friends, went to the school. A public school would have no mafia connections, no best friends and if she got into more fights the next level threat was boarding school.

Somewhere in the distance, a grandfather clock began to chime.

Either woken by the vibrations or by her own growling tummy, Xixi began to squirm in the sling, letting out a high pitched whine. Mima began to whimper, nudging her charge.

"Go feed her and then get to dinner, I'm too busy to deal with this fuckery right now."

"Yes papà."

"And don't slam the do –"

The door slammed shut with an almighty crash. One of the pictures hanging on the wall fell. Xanxus growled, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fuck my life." Today was not his day.

.

.

.

Night used to be Tsuna's favorite time. The old day was ending, a new one soon to begin. Perhaps that new day would be better than the day before had been. At the very least, it was several hours of sleep where his dreams could take him from the troubles of his life. In his dreams he escaped from the torture that was school, from the voices that whispered how his father had abandoned him and his mother, from the torturous training Reborn inflicted on him, from the fear and ache and pain and sorrow. Some nights were better than most, like when he would have his friends (when he finally had some) over for a slumber party (his mom's words not his). They would stay up late playing games and watching movies, laughing and joking, enjoying all childhood had to offer. Those nights were short but cherished escapes from reality.

Those times had passed. Tsuna had graduated high school and after a year under the ninth's apprenticeship, had taken on the official title of Vongola Decimo. Now, his nights were filled with nightmares. Silence in the house was so rare during the day when the sun seemed to fill the place and people in it with an explosive – literally – energy. The energy dissipated quickly once the sun had gone. The cheerful spirits faded. In their wake was a silence that was not silent. Voices screams, women cried and pleaded, men swore and begged. The ghosts that haunted the Vongola bloodline awoke in the night, filling the silence with their grudges and hatred.

Tsuna woke often from nightmares. Kyoko slept peacefully next to him, unable to hear the ghostly cries because she was not Vongola. She had just married one. That did not bother him. Let her sleep, she did nothing to deserve nightmares. She has no blood on her hands.

Then Tsumitsu was born.

The ghosts seemed to shrink back from the cries of the newborn. Obviously they were scaring him. How could they? Shame upon them for scaring an innocent babe. They retreated, letting the sleepy new mother and father rock and coo and kiss and sing the baby back to sleep.

The voices had stopped. The ghosts had left. Tsuna slept soundly.

Until one night a month ago, when Tsumitsu woke them screaming bloody murder. What was wrong? What had upset him? What had scared him? They checked him frantically but found no signs of injury. He would not feed, he would not be soothed. The first rays of the sun shone before Tsumitsu finally fell back into a fitful slumber. Kyoko had gone back to bed; Tsuna had gone to his office to think and to work.

Could the ghosts have realized whose blood flowed in Tsumitsu's veins? Did they know and were they angry, like when he had taken up the mantel? Now that they knew, would they torment his son like they did him? Would they give him nightmares and blame him? Why had no other Vongola boss ever mentioned this? Was it because these were the sins of the Vongola, that each new boss must inherit and deal with alone?

He had no answers. The ring gave him none either.

Tsumitsu continued to sleep badly. Tsuna, when he did manage to sleep at night, rarely stayed asleep long before a nightmare would wake him again.

He was tired.

Tonight was no different though his conversation with Xanxus weighed heavily on his heart. Killing off the Avila Family would increase the ghostly whispers. Tsumitsu would be the one to deal with them next and they were already so bad. What good would it do to kill them anyways? They would appear again, like a stubborn weed or a hydra. It was not what he wanted; it was not what Vongola Primo would want. Needless killing would solve nothing. But if the Avila attacked again, Tsuna had to deal with the consequences of that.

From the crib at the foot of their bed, Tsuna head Tsumitsu shifting. He would wake up screaming very soon. He glanced at his wife, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the pale complexion of her skin. She was tired and rightly so. She shouldn't have to deal with the results of the Vongola's sins. It was his cross to bear and one day Tsumitsu's.

Slipping silently from the bed, Tsuna crept over to the crib and carefully lifted his son, blankets and all. Tsumitsu wiggled and let out a soft whine. Quickly but quietly, the Vongola Decimo left his room, legs carrying him down the hall that held his and his guardians' and their children's rooms. He walked past the family living room, passed the door that led to the Varia wing, passed doors and halls and paintings of landscapes and priceless vases set atop small tables. Eventually, he ended up in the portrait room.

Nine faces stared down at him, their varying features no less noble than their neighbors. Under each large portrait of the Vongola Dons were six smaller portraits of the boss's guardians. Nine generations gazed down at him. His knees shook and he sat abruptly in the middle of the room. He was so tired. In his arms, Tsumitsu began to howl.

Why had he come here? The ghosts would be so much louder here, able to scream at their abuser and executioner face to face. He could hear hundreds of voices blending together like a chaotic symphony orchestra from Hell. Tsumitsu must have heard them too, for his screaming grew louder and louder until Tsuna wanted to cry too.

The past Dons were looking at him. Looking down at him as were their guardians, judging him with silent eyes. How must he look, a young man barely in his twenties clutching his screaming son whom he could not comfort? Surely it was disgust in his ancestors' eyes. They probably had no trouble comforting their heirs as the ghosts attacked. Probably kept the ghosts away through a force of will Tsuna did not possess.

Why had this been allowed to happen? If the Primo had not left the Vongola to Secondo, if he had a son in Italy and let that child take over the Vongola and continue his father's dream, then the Vongola would not have fallen so far into darkness. There would be fewer ghosts. Tsuna would not be awake and Tsumitsu would be sleeping, his dreams happy and uninterrupted by the restless spirits kept from peace by the Vongola's continued existence. Primo had been selfish and a coward to leave his work behind and run to Japan.

"This is your fault," Tsuna said to Primo's portrait.

It said nothing.

"If you hadn't abandoned the Vongola, this wouldn't have happened. This wouldn't be happening! I wouldn't be kept awake by the ghosts of the Vongola's sins and my son would be sleeping peacefully like a child should!"

Still, the painting did not speak.

"You expect me to do the impossible by fixing your mistake! You expect me to fulfill a declaration I made when I was young and stupid and ignorant of the extent of the darkness that had invaded the Vongola!"

He hoped no one heard him. They would cart him off to an asylum for sure unless it was Reborn who found him. Then he would just be killed for showing weakness.

"Why do I have to clean up mistakes made by generations before me? Clean up the mistakes of a Family I spent years trying to get out of being part of; that kept my father from my mother and me; that nearly killed my friends and me without concern!"

In his arms Tsumitsu began to kick, his little hands grasping his father's night shirt as he pressed his face against his father's chest, tiny body shuddering with the force of his sobs.

"Why does my son have to suffer for what you _assholes_ did? Why do my friends and I suffer for your _fucking_ decisions?"

He was crying now as well, hot tears streaming down his face to fall on Tsumitsu's blankets. He was exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally and there was no one to go to. He could not burden his mother with his problems, Kyoko did not deserve to bear to weight of his troubles, and his father was a subordinate and could not see him weak. Even his friends, close though they may be, would not benefit from seeing him like this, from knowing his thoughts. They would worry and hesitate and that could be deadly. Timoteo would be the logical choice but what good would it do to yell at the old man and blame him and his mother and grandfather and the rest of his ancestors when it was a complex web of faults, the center of which extended from Giotto Vongola, who Tsuna and only Tsuna was a direct descendant of. Who do you go to for help when there is no one who can help you?

"Why didn't you destroy yourselves before the decision became mine?"

His voice was getting louder and louder but he could not find it in him to care anymore. He was so tired and Tsumitsu was suffering because a bunch of arrogant, self-important fools thought they were god and could judge people as they saw fit and be the jury and executioner. How did he explain to his wife that it was not her fault that Tsumitsu would not stop crying, that a bunch of dead people were at fault and the ghosts of their sins kept both her son and husband awake.

"Why us? Why me?"

Tsumitsu choked and coughed, his wails gaining a desperate note as he tried to steady his breathing. Tsuna clutched him tighter, pressing his lips to his son's heated forehead because it was the only comfort he could offer when he himself was lost and scared.

"Why?"

His ring began to glow. The paintings shifted abruptly. The room fell silent then vanished altogether, replaced with empty darkness. A familiar crest began to glow beneath Tsuna, lighting up the area as, one by one, nine figures appeared around him. As the ninth one appeared sitting in a high backed throne, the area lit up, replacing the darkness with a soft blue that was just as empty as the black but far more inviting. In the light, Tsuna could see more people standing behind the previous bosses, six to each boss.

Tsuna glared at the man on the throne, unconcerned that his face was wet and blotchy, that his eyes were red and puffy and still pouring tears or that he was trembling with exhaustion. This was his fault; let the great Vongola Primo see the results of his actions.

"You put us all in an odd position, Decimo," Primo said. His voice betrayed neither anger nor frustration. "I believe this is the first time we have been yelled at and blamed for the state of the Vongola."

"Untrue," said a man to Tsuna's right. It was Terzo. "Most of us have been blamed at one point or another. No one has yet to blame you." There was a hint of teasing in his voice that unsettled Tsuna. His last dealing with these people had left him with the impression that they were all serious, no nonsense types. Serious people did not tease…right?

"Touché. Now we have all been blamed," Primo amended. "But this still leaves us in an odd position."

"And why is that?" demanded Tsuna. He saw several people frown at his rudeness. One does not simply be rude to Primo.

"Because," explained Octavo, "we should have seen to it you were properly informed of our actions and why those courses of action were taken. In this aspect we have failed you. Badly."

Secondo took up the explanation, "Think what you may brat, but we all did what we thought was best. Certainly my rein was bloodier than Primo's. Other's dealt in other areas of illegal business best left unmentioned around your son."

Tsuna glanced down at Tsumitsu who he just now noticed had fallen silent. The infant gazed around at all the gathered people, eyes wide. One hand still clung to Tsuna's shirt while the other was jammed in his mouth. Without the ghosts to bother him, he seemed content to lay there and suck his thumb in peace.

Secondo continued, "Times changed. Alliances changed. Families rose and fell. The world around us was always changing, from a time of great learning…"

"To a time of great death." It was the ninth that said that. He was much lighter and less clear than the others, as were his guardians. Perhaps because they were not fully here, being still alive. "I saw millions die in the early years of my rein. Die for no reason except being different. I had to protect my Family and those who relied on us. If that meant killing others, then so be it."

"I saw a great empire fall." *

"I saw Italy free and independent and unified."

"I saw Napoleon rise."

"I saw I saw the birth of a new nation."

"I saw the beginning of the enlightened modern era."

"I saw the New World being colonized."

"I saw the Thirty Years War."

"We all saw something in our times," Primo said as he stood up and walked towards Tsuna. "And we reacted, for better or for worse. Only God in Heaven knows how often I despaired at seeing the Family I had built, raised and nurtured turn towards the darkness; but what could I do? Who is to say that faced with what my successors faced that I would choose a different course of action? Who is to say I would not have chosen a worse one?" By now he had reached his descendant. With a grace that Tsuna had come to expect from his great-great-great-great grandfather, Primo knelt before him and wrapped his arms around him. "I knew the moment I left, that the Vongola would have darkness brought into it, on purpose or by accident. I knew it would happen. I also knew that one day some child of the child my wife bore me would right old wrongs."

"Why me?" Tsuna choked out.

"Because you have the heart, the courage, the intuition and the support no one else before had. Your Family mirrors my own, from my guardians to my wife, not only in their looks, but in their personalities and their strength of character."

"And bad habits," someone muttered.

"Remove yourself from my presence. Your distasteful attitude is making me sick."

"Your face makes me sick."

"Childish."

"What did you say to me, princess?"

"Ma-ma, calm down, arguing does not help."

"Shut up, flute boy!"

"The children of God should not pick fights with their brothers."

"I am insulted you insinuated I could be related to that undignified, lowly archer."

"Pluck you, princess. Pluck you."

"How uncouth!"

"I will arrest both of you for disturbing this meeting."

"Why don't you all shut up? Every single time we get together you fight!"

"Not like you're any better! You would pick a fight with a brick wall."

"Say that to my face!"

"He did you Neanderthal!"

"Exactly like them," Primo sighed, sounding rather weary as he tried to ignore multiple generations of guardians arguing around them. "My point, Decimo, is that even if you do not have faith in yourself, I have faith in you and your Family."

"Faith doesn't help me," exclaimed Tsuna startling several people around them. "Faith doesn't keep the ghosts away or help me sleep at night or tell me how to deal with the Avila. It doesn't do anything but give false hope to people who believe in a god!"

"Faith is a powerful thing, even if it is not in a god. Faith in your friends, faith in your Family and allies, and faith in yourself."

"But how does that help me?" Tsuna demanded.

"I did not spend my rein as Primo acting alone. Your guardians are more than battlefield support, bodyguards and a general annoyance –"

"Hey!"

"They each have opinions," Primo said as if there had been no interruption, "and knowledge and points of view that differ from one another. Being boss does not mean standing on top of the hill alone. You share that plateau with your guardians, with your outside advisor and your wife, with allies. Remember that and stop taking upon your shoulders a greater weight that you cannot bear alone."

Tsuna sat there, head resting against Primo's shoulder, digesting this piece of advice. When was the last time he had sat down with Yamamoto and Gokudera? When was the last time he asked Xanxus his opinion? When was the last time he had even bothered talking about the situation with his guardians?

A long time, he was shocked to discover. There had been so much going on, threats to assess, paperwork to do, missions that needed completing. He had been running himself ragged without thinking about what it was doing to his mental state and in doing so had pushed his greatest supports away as he tried to hold up the world on his own.

"What about the ghosts?"

"They can only reach you if you let them. Have confidence in yourself and your Family and they will leave."

"They'll leave Tsumitsu alone as well?"

"If he feels you at ease, he will be as well. Our hyper intuition is both a blessing and a curse."

He could think of nothing to say to that except to whisper a 'thank you' to his ancestor.

Tsumitsu, not used to being ignored by new people, reached up and grabbed Primo's cloak, tugging it to get the man's attention. Primo released Tsuna from his embrace and looked down at his great-great-great-great-great grandson with a fond, almost parental, smile.

"Hello little one," he cooed softly, gently resting his index finger on the babe's forehead. A small dying will flame burst into life before slowly flickering out. Primo nodded. "He will have an exciting future to look forward to," he commented brushing aside soft brown locks to place a kiss on Tsumitsu's forehead. Tsumitsu yawned widely, closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. "Rest easy knowing that," he added to Tsuna.

"My life since Reborn entered it has been classified as exciting," Tsuna remarked wearily, "and traumatic."

Primo let out a ringing laugh. "Yes, I suppose so. Now then," he reached out and rested a hand on Tsuna's shoulder, "it is time for children to be in bed." The domain of the Vongola melted away. Tsuna found himself sitting on the floor of the portrait room. It was blissfully silent. Looking around, he noticed the portraits looked a lot friendlier now. With a smile, he stood up, wincing as legs left inactive for too long protested the movement, and returned to his room. Tsumitsu did not awaken even when his father put him in the crib and tucked him in. Kyoko did not wake when Tsuna slid into bed though she moved closer to the new heat source with a content sigh.

At peace for the first time in a long while, Tsuna closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into undisturbed dreams.

An explosion woke him.

"Fuck you, pineapple bastard, fuck you!"

"So uncouth! Why do we keep such a destructive little thing like you around?"

"Die!"

Tsuna glanced at his alarm clock. Eight thirty. He had gotten five hours of sleep. With a groan, he laid back down, pulling the covers over his head.

"You two woke me up, I'll bite you to death."

"Guuuuys, don't fight. You'll wake up the kids and…"

"EXTREME MORNING TRAINING!"

"Oh god, go away, it's too early to deal with your loudness, turf head."

"Why you…"

"Vaaaaaai! Xiale get the fuck back here! You're taking a fucking bath and that's fucking final!"

"Never!"

"At least put some fucking clothes on you fucking trash moron!"

"Watch your fucking language!"

"You both watch your language! If my sons start cursing…"

"You are all crowding. Die."

"Gah!"

"Eep!"

"What the actual fuck, trash!"

"Owowow!"

"Kufufuuuuooow! Fuck you!"

"Tsuna, go make them be quiet," Kyoko begged.

Tsuna did not bother getting up. A quick text to Chrome soon had everyone running from the hall to another part of the house to escape the tentacles chasing them, Gokudera screaming as he ran, "I've seen enough animes to know where this is going!"

Silence. At last.

Kyoko and Tsuna shared a sigh relief and went back to sleep.

* * *

And there is the first rewritten chapter. I hope it is better than my previous story so far. Squalo's absense with be further explained though to those of you who have already read this story so far, you know part of the reason.

* All the dates coincide with historical events or during historical events.

The 8th saw the fall of the Ottoman Empire, which lasted from 1299 (1453 if you count the beginning as when they took control over Constantinople/Istanbul) until 1923

Other events were as named:

Italy was unified in 1861, before hand North and South Italy were separate and that's not getting into separate city states such as Venice and Florence. Rome was not part of this new unified Italy or it's captial though and would not be until 1070 and 1871 respectively.

Napolean rose, took control, fucked up in Russia, ran home, got fucked over by Prussia, Austria, England and Russia (talk about over kill), and died. By the end he was so disliked that people cheered when the enemies troops marched into Paris.

The United States of America declared its independence from Great Britain on 4 July, 1776. France was the first to recognize it as an independent nation in 1778 (mostly because of Benjamin Franklin obtaining military aid and an alliance between the two and because France and England take any shot they can at each other.) Spain and later the Neatherlands/Dutch also came to accept America as a nation partly because of alliances with France against Great Britain. Both also offered aid. Britain got fucked over badly around this time and that is putting it mildly.

The Enlightment period began between 1650-1700 and was just as it is called, enlightened. Lots of thinking going on.

The colonization of the New World (the Americans) began as soon as people not in Viking ships found them. Following Christopher Columbu's famous voyage in 1492, Spain, Portugal, France, Britain, Neatherlands, Sweden and Finland began to settle the lands. Brazil still speaks a form of Portuguese while most of the rest of South America speaks Spanish. Florida was originally settled by the Spanish. Louisiana (and most of centeral U.S.) and Canada were settled by the French originally. New York used to be New Amsterdam and was settled by the Neatrherlands while Delaware was originally settled by Finland and Sweden before they pissed off the Netherlands and got kicked out. And we all know that the British settled along the east coast. On that note, this one is mentioned much later than 1492 or even the 1500s because colonization continued for a long time. The first British settlement that lasted was James Town in 1607. So the mention of seeing the New World colonized is the boss that led in the 1630s~ (also, fuck Christopher Columbus, he did not find North America. He found a fucking island. The vikings found North America! VIKINGS! A century before that idiot! That is all.)

The Thirty Years War is as it sounds, a war that lasted thirty years, from 1618-1648, mostly in what is today Germany, but was the Holy Roman Empire back then. Catholics and Protestants were fighting again because we all know Catholics and Protestants get along as well as the Titanic and ice bergs (haha! The joke there is that the Titanic was built in Belfast N. Ireland where another large scale Protestant vs. Catholic battle took place and was only settled very recently. How recently you ask? I was chilling at the student hang out at the uni here and a guy comes over to tell my friends and I that there were police at the entrances checking everyone because of a bomb scare. No one reacted except little old American me. They were used to it. That's how recently. Not even ten years. But Belfast is a lot nicer and safer now and all the people rock. And the food is good too :9) The explination (of the Thiry Years War not the Troubles) is very over simplified but it hits one of the main reasons much like saying the America Civil War was fought because no one agreed on slavery

So that's your history lesson for today and on that note, I have so passed all my classes just because I remembered all of this without looking it up. Go me.

Any questions, comments or concerns can be directed to me in the form of a review. HINT HINT!

As for updating schedule...don't know. Honestly, not sure. I've got a shit ton of stuff to do, I leave these beautiful isles in June and get to spend three days at home before going to a fucking wedding and standing around in the heat in fucking heels, then a week vacation and then work and then school and it's senior year so haha what is sleep. But I will try to get a chapter out every month. I will try. Just don't kill me if a chapter takes two months to get out.

On that note, it's good to be back everyone! Cheerio.


	2. Chapter 2

Arg! Sorry! I had meant to put this up a month ago but I was still in N. Ireland and it was finals and just a shit ton of crazy. Then I finally had time but people kept dragging me places and then I was home and then I was back in NYC for a wedding. Just had time today to sit down and upload.

Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I get the feeling some of my old readers won't return (though some did :D) but oh well. This story takes a new spin on several things I had established in the other story and glosses over others. I hope to get the actual plot really going within the next two chapters because once it does start, things will get moving fast.

Until then, enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 2

A Little Unsure

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

The steady sound of blood dripping from the tip of his sword was all Yamamoto Takeshi could hear. All around him were bodies, mangled, slashed, cut, stabbed so they no longer resembled the humans they had once been. He was covered in blood, crimson seeping into his clothes, dying them red. He felt disgusted; with himself; with the world; with the bastards he had just slain.

Farther from him, out of the circle of carnage, lay twelve small bodies. If it were not for the bruises and the blue tint of the skin, one might have thought the children were asleep. But if one wished to call it sleep, it was a permanent one with no dreams to escape into. Only the blackness of death.

Yamamoto had been given a simple assignment: save the children taken several weeks ago by a human trafficking ring. He had done it before. He had saved people loads of times. But something had gone wrong this time. Someone tipped the traffickers off. He arrived to find twelve corpses instead of twelve children and an ambush. Normally, he would have simply incapacitated the men; taken them in to see justice done by a lawful hand. However, they had managed to get the drop on him. Worse, three of the bodies were identical males, with black hair and the slanted eyes common to those of Japanese descent. All of the naked corpses had bruises in places where they should not be.

His last sane thought was that those three could have been his boys.

Now he stood amongst a massacre, covered in blood and feeling sick. His Vongola ring burned, as if its original owner was scolding him for having murdered these monsters. They had deserved it. It had not been his place to play judge and executioner.

"The Vongola that has been will be no more," Tsuna has said years ago when he took over as Don. "We will return it to what it was meant to be. If it is necessary I shall destroy the Vongola and build it anew, as a Family that helps, not hurts."

It was easy to say those words.

It was hard to see them followed when mercy brought no justice and villains were everywhere and understood nothing but death and pain and the threat of death. What would have stopped these men from repeating their crimes? Prison was so easy to get out of with the proper connections.

What of the families who now had to prepare funerals for children gone long before their time. How could he face them, when several of the mothers and fathers had come to the Vongola estate personally to beg for help? They had cried tears of sorrow and fear for their lost children and he had promised them he would return them. Thinking back on it now, it had been a foolish promise. He could no more control the actions of others than he could quit the mafia to play major league baseball. What could he say to those parents, who he had promised and who had trusted him, that he had failed?

For the first time in a long time, Takeshi regretted ever meeting Tsuna. It was a brief flash of regret, one that came as soon as it went but left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because of Tsuna he had made true friends. Because of Tsuna, he had met the love of his life and now had a family and three wonderful kids. Because of Tsuna, he had a purpose; one he had began all those years ago when he noticed something the others seemed to ignore. Takeshi had pretended to believe that the mafia was a game because it had been all too easy to see how upset Tsuna would get whenever Hayato or the others would talk about the mafia and Vongola. The others stirred up thoughts Tsuna had not wanted to face at the time. So Takeshi had played the fool, rather convincingly. For those short moments, Tsuna could pretend his life was not spiraling downwards out of his control and be a normal teenager talking with his baseball loving friend, smiling without regret, without fear. Takeshi's purpose had become protecting his friends and that smile.

He had treasured that smile because all too soon it became a rare thing. Tsuna would fall into short spans of depression and fear and sometimes anger. He would panic and try to hide his worry from all of them. Sometimes they would go days without seeing a real smile. Hayato and Takeshi would double-team Tsuna, dragging him briefly away from the mafia world with game nights and sleep-overs, trips that was just the three of them and sometimes times Ryohei. It had been hard at times, painful to see his first true friend on the brink of meltdowns. But he had endured, as Tsuna and the rest of them endured. And now they were rebuilding the Vongola.

At least, they had been.

Now, looking at the devastation surrounding him, Takeshi did not know what was being rebuilt and what was being torn apart.

He did not remember returning to the town. He could not forget talking to the families. The mothers had cried. The fathers had yelled and clutched their weeping wives, tears spilling from their eyes. Takeshi did not remember getting back to Vongola manor. Waiting for him in the entrance hall was Tsuna, his eyes expression sad, his eyes sympathetic. When he held out his arms Takeshi did not hesitate to hug him. Tsuna held him tightly, heedless of the blood and gore that stained his clothes.

"I'm sorry," Takeshi mumbled.

Tsuna let out a mirthless laugh, "What is there to apologize for? You did what you could. If not for the depravity of villains you would have succeeded."

"I'm not sorry I failed the mission," Takeshi said, "I'm sorry I killed the men."

His words seem to have struck Tsuna speechless for he did not say anything for several minutes. Finally, he asked, "Why?"

"It is not my job to play judge and executioner. My job is only to bring criminals to justice." It was something he had read in the First Rain Guardian's journal which he had found by accident in the library some time ago. He had failed his predecessor; the one who helped to form the Vongola Tsuna wanted to return the Family to. He had failed Tsuna as much as he had failed the Family.

"Why did you kill them?"

"They had me held down. They were laughing at me and showed me the bodies. There were triplets, boys, black hair…I thought it could have been my sons. I got angry. The next thing I know, they were all dead."

"They were dangerous people who would have done everything again had they lived."

"But it was not my job to kill them."

"No, it was not the objective of the mission. But the objective changed the moment they killed those kids and felt no remorse. I do not think even Primo's rain guardian would have allowed the world to suffer those men any longer."

"My ring was burning."

"Perhaps in comfort. You certainly look like you need it."

"…those could have been my sons."

"But they weren't."

"It could one day be them."

"We won't let it happen."

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, tears burning his eyes and blurring his vision. "I…"

"Takeshi!" The swordsman looked up, startled. There, in one of the doorways leading off from the entrance hall, was Hayato. He stared at Takeshi, taking in all the blood and gore and the watery eyes. Without hesitating, he stomped over, Hiko, Mizuko and Akaiko toddling along behind him. Tsuna stepped aside and let his rain guardian sweep his storm into a fierce hug. "What happened, you idiot?" he demanded, giving little notice to the blood smeared on his clothes. He reached up, trying to wipe away the blood splashed across his husband's face. "You look like hell."

"Just a hard day," Takeshi mumbled, burying his face in Hayato's neck.

The triplets, seeing their parents engaged in hugging, promptly attached themselves to their father babbling words of encouragement and declarations of love. Takeshi released his wife and bent down, scooping all three boys into his arms and holding them tight.

This was why he fought now; for his Family, for his friends; for the three sets of bright shining eyes looking up at him with the utmost love and trust. If he had to kill all the criminals in the world to rebuild the Vongola Family right again and keep these three safe, then so be it.

"Go clean up," Tsuna ordered, smiling that treasured smile. "Afterwards, I think we should have a game night. It's been awhile since we've had one."

"It has been hasn't it? Seems like forever ago."

"Yeah, yeah, you heard Tenth, go get cleaned up you're…ugh! Gross! Don't kiss me you stupid baseball idiot! You're getting blood all over me!"

"You've already got it on you."

"Duh! Because you practically tackled me!"

"It was a hug. I thought you liked my hugs."

"Not when you're filthy and disgusting and covered in blood and…is that part of an intestine!"

"This…um…possibly? I don't know. I never paid attention in science."

"You…you…fu…da…freaking idiot! Bath! Now!"

"Only if you join us."

"And that's my queue to leave, bye!"

"Wait, Tenth! I – Gwhaaa!"

"Up we go. Bath time."

"Put me down you fucking bastard! I said put me down."

"Ma-ma, you shouldn't curse in front of the kids."

"Go die!"

.

.

.

If there was one thing Xiana knew, it was that life with the Vongola was a lesson in patience. Mostly because the members would try the patience of a saint…all the fucking time. A person being late to pick her up was not an odd occurrence. Takeshi, who was training her in swordsmanship in her mother's absence, sometimes forgot about her lessons because he was taking care of his kids. No one in the manor had a proper sense of time and if that did not grate on the nerves then the appalling amount of fights, property damage, explosions and rampaging animals would.

Except the children.

All of them, from newborn Himeko to the triplets had a perfect sense of time. Feeding time, play time, nap time, if anything was late you would be alerted and be left slightly deaf for only the next hour if you were lucky. Xiana had a bad sense of time except when it came to the kids. She knew their schedules as well as they did. Some speculated it was because she was close in age to them. Xiana insisted it was because she had to watch them all the time.

A mafia Family required a lot of work and attention which took time away from kids. Since Anita, the previous head of the household, died, Rosaline, Xiana and Xiale's old nanny, had taken over as head of the household. This included managing the servants and seeing that the manor was kept in order and livable. Kyoko and Hana both had their jobs to do as well, leaving the young children without a babysitter from three in the afternoon until dinner. This left four obvious choices for babysitters, Xiana, Lambo, I-Pin and Fuuta all of whom got home from school at 3. Tuesdays and Thursdays Xiana had skate practice so the older three alternated between who got to watch the "Snot Squad" (as the young children were secretly called amongst the four) on those days. Xiana watched them Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays so the older kids could get homework done. Weekends varied depending on adult availability and rate of explosions.

The day was a Tuesday, normally Xiana's day off from babysitting. Yet the girl sat in the main living room, attentively watching the triplets play with Tsumitsu. Xiale sat in an overstuffed winged armchair, a colourful children's book open in his lap. At the low coffee table, I-Pin and Lambo worked on a project for school while Fuuta finished a book report. Himeko was being thoroughly entertained by the bright colours and wild noises made by her kangaroo play seat. Xixi was lying on a blanket napping, Mima acting as her pillow and heat source. Normally, the third Xi sibling would be with Spanner and Irie at this hour but due to several explosions that had spewed bright green sparkling smoke, the lab area was restricted until further notice.

Xiana herself sulked on the couch, her attention divided between the TV, which was running Thundercats reboot, and Tsumitsu and the triplets. She should have been at skate practice. However, yesterday's parent teacher conference had ended, to put it mildly, very badly. Parent teacher conferences were usually times for teachers to tell parents how well their children were doing, discuss areas they struggled in, to ask questions and suggest solutions. Xiana's had, like most things in her life, not been normal. Her conference had consisted of thirty minutes of nonstop complaints about Xiana's temper, her blatant rudeness, her habit of being uncooperative, her lack of social graces, her disregard for the rules, her refusal to work with anyone but Ariel and Isabella, her average grades in math, her poor grades in Language Arts, her poor grades in science, her refusal to ask for assistance, her refusal to accept help when it was offered, her lack of interest in play time and her unacceptable and often violent scenarios that frequently appeared during "creative time". The icing on the cake had been when the teacher accused Xanxus of being a horrible influence and parental figure based on one picture Xiana had been forced (against her will) to draw one day during "creative time". It depicted four crude stick figures of varying sizes all smiling along with the sun at god knows what.

"I see nothing wrong," Xanxus had said.

"It's all in black!" shrieked the teacher, a middle aged woman with brown hair that was graying prematurely. "Even the sun! It should be yellow! And there is nothing else drawn!"

"Maybe they ran out of yellow," he replied waspishly.

The teacher glared. "I will not tolerate anymore of her…her…attitude in my classroom! She upsets the other students and if she does not shape up I will not teach her!"

"Might be a blessing for everyone," Xanxus had growled.

He was kicked out of the classroom by the shrieking banshee. Upon his return home, Xanxus informed his eldest spawn she was grounded until she "shaped up". This led to an explosive argument that ended with Xiana's dying will flame spontaneously combusting, two broken walls and macaroni and Fran stuck to the ceiling. (No one was quite sure how the latter got stuck as well but no one was willing to question the situation too much.) Now she was grounded from skating _and _desserts _and_ going anywhere on weekends until she "shaped up". What the fuck did that mean anyway "shape up"?

"Sulking will do you no good," Lambo informed her, as he flipped through his science text book.

"It makes me feel better," she snapped. It was a lie of course. She felt worse but she was not about to admit it.

"You need help in LA and science yes?" I-Pin inquired.

Xiana nodded sullenly.

"We can help," the old girl offered. "That way Xanxus can't complain. You "shape up"."

"And what about my attitude problems?" Xiana demanded. "That's what everyone has a problem with. They wouldn't care if I failed as long as I was quiet and meek."

"No helping that," Fuuta said, looking up from his book to smile at her, "look at your parents, your attitude problems are their attitude problems."

"Like that matters. I'll still get blamed."

"Well come over here and we'll start your tutoring."

It was a mark of how little the adults really understood the children that weeks went by before anyone noticed the new little oddities that had begun to affect not only Xiana but Xiale, the triplets, Tsumitsu, Himeko and Xixi as well. The first clue came when Hiko requested three very specific and curious ingredients from the kitchen staff. His parents were at a loss as the why he wanted saltpeter, sulfur and charcoal or where he had even heard of them.

The next clue came from Xiale, who asked for a book on biology. He had always been interested in science but it was the first time he specifically requested a type of science and insisted that it not be a "baby book".

The third clue appeared on Xiana's birthday. She did not spend the day arguing with her father to let her return to skating as most had predicted she would. Rather, the day passed as all Vongola birthdays did, with explosions, loud noises, random screaming, a stamped of animals, and Tsuna hanging by the chandelier.

Once the adults began to notice the hints, other oddities appeared. Fuuta, Lambo and I-Pin usually went out with friends on weekends to the movies, local hangouts, apparently normal teenaged things (though the validity of their actions and movements had yet to be confirmed). When the trio remained home for the fourth weekend in a row, the suspicion turned into a full-blown investigation. This lasted for an additional three weeks by which time fall semester had ended. Xiana's grades had been raised enough to allow skating practices to continue. Christmas break had begun.

Christmas was bitter sweet this year. Squalo was still away, making this the second Christmas he had missed and it showed in Xiale's depressed mood, non-existent smiles and Xiana's increasingly short fuse. Xixi, sensing her siblings' distress, had stopped talking. Instead she made a sad chirping sound when approached.

Xixi's attitude infected Tsumitsu and the triplets, her main playmates leaving all in low spirits. Only Himeko escaped due in part because she was too young to understand.

Oddly enough, the teenaged trio also seemed depressed and spent an increasing amount of time studying for their midterms. This was odd for said midterms were not until January. The homework they worked on was also not due until school began again. As studious as the three were they were under no obligations to do their work early. Nor spend the time watching the kids which they did with no argument and even when not requested.

It was Takeshi who solved the mystery. Having finished his last mission of the year (as everyone took from December 23rd until January 2nd off) early, he wandered towards the living room. His intention was to relieve Xiana of babysitting duties so he could spend time with his sons and hopefully cheer the tykes up. After all, it was Christmas! Maybe watch some Christmas movies or better yet, baseball movies. Yes, that would cheer them right up.

Plan made, he entered the living room, a broad grin on his face.

He froze in the doorway.

Sitting with in a semi circle around Fuuta were the children. Fuuta, his back to the fireplace where a roaring fire glowed and warmed the room, held a picture book up for the gathering of kids to see. The picture book depicted stars and planets, brilliantly coloured and in remarkable detail. Himeko giggled whenever Fuuta pointed to the sun. The rest of the children seemed to hang on the teen's every word as he explained about the movement of stars, planets and the wonders of the universe.

It was not until Aka looked up that Takeshi was even noticed. Once he was noticed by one son the other two noticed him. By the time Takeshi had an armful of triplets the rest of the group were watching him.

"So this is what you've been doing," the rain guardian chuckled, amused that a study group had stumped them for so long and without even trying.

Lambo shrugged, "Yeah, Xiana needed help and then the rest were interested so it just turned into a teaching time."

"Well I'm impressed," Takeshi informed the three teens, "and proud, this was a wonderful idea and it benefits everyone." An idea struck him and he grinned. "I think everyone should get involved! I can teach them baseball in the spring!"

Fuuta rolled his eyes. I-Pin giggled. The children (and Lambo) however, seemed excited at the prospect of learning something new. The triplets already knew the basics of baseball. After all, their dad was Yamamoto Takeshi, the man who had turned down offers for spots on major league teams to be with his Family. How could they _not_ know baseball? The problem with only four people to play was that you could not play a proper game. More people meant perhaps a team!

Mission accomplished: children cheered up.

.

.

.

Takeshi sat up with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest. Cold sweat soaked his shirt and made his hair cling to his scalp. He reached up, resting a hand over his heart and took a deep breath. It felt like his body was vibrating, blood racing through his veins even as his heart froze. When was the last time he had this feeling? It had been years. Something was not right.

He took another breath. It did not calm the trembling in his hands or the cold feeling gripping his insides.

What was going on?

Outside it was raining. He loved the rain. The gentle rhythm of the rain had been his lullaby since childhood. It was a constant friend and companion who never let him down.

Standing, he stumbled over to the window. With a sigh he rested his sweaty forehead against the cool glass.

Something was wrong. The rain was telling him someone was outside. This person was disrupting the fall of the rain. This person did not belong.

He gritted his teeth, hands curling into fists. His hair stood on end like a dog with its hackles raised. Who dare come into _his_ territory without permission? Who dare threaten _his _domain? Jirou and Kojirou burned to be released from their inanimate forms. They wanted to eliminate the intruder.

Hayato grumbled and rolled over, tugging the blankets tighter around him. A cool breeze flowed in through the open window.

Reborn had often commented on Takeshi's remarkable skills. He was a born hitman, the arcobaleno had said time and again. He had the innate abilities and skills. That explained why no one saw or heard him running across the grounds, Kojirou flying overhead and Jirou keeping pace beside him. There had been no alarm. That meant the intruder was hitman level as well.

With a spray of water, the swordsman slid to a halt, eyes scanning the grounds. Who would be stupid enough to come in here? Since Xiana and Xiale's kidnapping, there had never been a successful infiltration. Those who tried were always caught and sent back – alive – to their Family. So who decided to try now?

Something moved to the right; a blur of motion only visible for a split second. He saw. Sword drawn, Takeshi turned and raced after the intruder. They ran a swirling, crisscrossing path that was leading up to the manor. Abruptly, the intruder stopped, one hand going for a gun at his hip. He froze.

Takeshi lunged, sword sweeping up.

A ring echoed across the empty grounds, the sound dampened by the rain. His sword went flying. The intruder gave a strangled cry and fell. The sword that had pierced him through slid out with a sick squelching noise.

Takeshi stared, first at the intruder who now lay dead on the ground then raised his eyes to the killer. He gaped.

It had been almost two years since he last saw the assassin before him but there was no mistaking those striking silver eyes or long silver hair. Superbia Squalo smirked at his fellow sword emperor, one fisted hand resting against his hip, the other hanging at his side, sword attached. The Japanese swordsman tried to speak, failed, tried again and finally just shook his head in disbelief and looked the taller man over. Something was different about him and it was not just the hair.

Squalo's hair had grown another couple inches or so in his two year absence. The silver locks now hung just below his knees. But it was not his hair that was the most striking difference. He stood taller, straighter than he had in years. The arrogant smirk on his face was the one Takeshi remembered from the old Squalo, before Xiana had been born. There was a spark in his eyes that the rain guardian had not seen in a long time. The shark even seemed more relaxed. The sickly paleness that his last pregnancy and illness had brought was gone, replaced with the old glow that made him look like a ghostly grim reaper in his black Varia coat.

"Vooooi! What's with that fucking stupid ass look? You become retarded since I left?"

Even his voice sounded better, louder.

The edges of Takeshi's mouth twitched upward. "Hello Squalo." He calmly retrieved his sword and turned back to the shark. "It's good to see you again."

Squalo tsk-ed. "Don't go getting mushy on me. I just finished my job." He kicked the corpse. "Bastard thought he could escape me. He made the mistake of coming into my territory."

Takeshi looked down at the intruder. Now that the threat was eliminated, weariness was starting to sink into his bones. His legs hurt from the stupid jump he had taken from his bedroom window and then flat out run. With the adrenaline leaving, he was tired. Looking at Squalo, he said, "You've been gone a long time."

For the first time Takeshi could remember, Squalo shifted nervously, looking rather like a child who had disappointed his favorite parent. "I had some thinking to do. It's none of your fucking business."

"The kids will be happy you're back. They missed you."

"Probably don't even remember me…except Xiana."

"I'm sure they all do. Are you going to see them now?"

"…no. I…I have to give my report first. Xanxus should still be in his office. He always works late on Thursdays."

"Ok then, good night. It's good to see you back."

"Don't touch me you fucking idiot…"

"Aw, it was just a pat on the shoulder. I could have hugged you."

"I'll slice you up. Go away."

He did so.

It took a long time getting back to the manor. Takeshi was tired and his feet slipped and stumbled under him as he slid on wet grass and mud. A guard greeted him at the door with a raised eyebrow. A few minutes were spent explaining the situation to the guard, there was an intruder, body is out there; send someone to deal with it. Once that was resolved, Takeshi slowly climbed the stairs and made his way back to his room. A nice hot shower and a change of clothes later he fell back into bed. Hayato woke with a start, growled, and promptly kicked him out of bed with orders to shut the damn window. Window shut, Takeshi was allowed into bed once more.

"Where did you go?" Hayato demanded once his husband had settled down next to him.

"There was an intruder," he explained, his eyelids heavy and words slurred with tiredness.

"So you jumped out of our window to deal with them?"

"Something wasn't right."

"Yeah, your lack of a brain. Go out the bedroom door next time, it was freezing in here."

"'m 'kay."

"If I've caught a cold cause of your stupidity…no if you've caught a cold because of your stupidity I will kill you."

"…"

"Are you listening to me? I am threatening you! Hey, baseball idiot are you deaf?"

Soft, deep, even breaths answered.

"Tsk…idiot."


End file.
